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About Porto

Met this one chick once, swear she had a heart o’ gold, but the streets? They don’t care. She told me—get this—some john paid her in *chickens*. CHICKENS! I laughed my ass off, but she was mad as hell. “Don’t pee on my leg,” I told her, “that’s a farm, not a payday!” Made me happy, though—girl’s got stories. Prolly smelled like poultry all night, poor thing.

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First off, I’m cruising down Rua da Liberdade, thinking about my coffee fix. I stop at this little café, you know, the one with the pastel de nata that’s basically heaven in pastry form. I order my usual, and the barista, this dude named Miguel, spills my coffee all over the counter. Like, come on, man! I’m already running late for a meeting. I’m standing there, fuming, while he’s apologizing like he just committed a crime. I mean, it’s just coffee, right? But still, I’m like, “Dude, I need that caffeine!”

Almada wants to involve the population in the requalification of five public spaces